I distinctly remember believing, albeit briefly, that Jack and Meg White were actually brother and sister. Other than the fact that my mom never had a crush on either of them, they were like Donnie and Marie Osmond — but without the sexual tension and with matching outfits that were somehow actually cool. If I wore that much red and black, I’d look like a serial killer or a Hot Topic employee. Everything about them was intrinsically cool, even the bizarre fact that they turned out to be not only unrelated but formerly married, then divorced, then best friends, then reclusive, then, most recently, disbanded.
COLUMN: The days the music died
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